


Civil War (A Marvel High School AU)

by exemias



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Bi Bucky Barnes, Bi Peter Parker, Bisexual Male Character, Body Dysphoria, F/M, Gay Male Character, Gay Steve Rogers, Gender Dysphoria, Homophobia, M/M, Misgendering, Slurs, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:24:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exemias/pseuds/exemias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A High School AU that focuses mostly around Peter Parker, who is a bi transboy. Some chapters will not be absolutely essential to the plot, but will rather follow subplots of some characters. The notes at the start of each chapter will indicate who the chapter is following story wise, and whether or not it is a chapter essential to the overall plot. If a chapter contains any potentially triggering material, it will be marked as so in the notes at the start of the chapter. </p><p>This is still very much so a work of progress and may undergo many many edits. </p><p>Above all else this fic was written by me to have fun, and is intended to be read for fun. I hope everyone reading enjoys it. <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter follows the perspective of Peter Parker.
> 
> Peter gets misgendered a few times, although no actual transphobia is present.

Sunlight shone in through the side window, illuminating the otherwise dimly light room. The floor coated in books, papers from research on science, whatever interested him at the moment, and clothes. The walls were covered in various posters, mostly science related. A poster of Einstein, one of the periodic table, and then a few of the bands he enjoyed. Peter's alarm had gone off nearly ten minutes ago but due to staying up rather late and just generally loving to sleep, he slept through it. His Aunt May shouted through the house to wake him.

"PA-... PETER? YOU BETTER BE GETTING READY, YOU DON'T WANT TO MISS YOUR FIRST DAY AT YOUR NEW SCHOOL!"

Peter sat up instantly in his bed, his head snapping around to look at his old analog alarm clock.

8:15

"Shit." 

He tore away the blanket of his bed and jumped up. Pulling off the large sweatshirt he slept in, he slid on the first sports bra, followed by a second to bind his chest. Looking in the mirror and seeming pleased by the job the sports bras did at binding his chest, he slid on a sweater that was slightly too large for him, with just the top half of his fingers being able to pop out of the sleeves. Across the chest of the sweater was a copy of the periodic table. He slipped (Or rather, desperately pulled himself) into his favourite pair of skinny jeans and ran frantically out his room and down the stairs, grabbing his pre-packed backpack and skateboard on the way down.

They lived in a small house that was littered with lots of objects. Family photos, books, trophies. Despite the mess, you'd never once look at the place and consider it messy or dirty. It was homey, warm, and welcoming. Just like any home should be. Aunt May stood at the kitchen counter, washing the dishes from breakfast as Uncle Ben sat at the table, drinking the last bit of his coffee and reading the paper. He looked up from his paper and coffee.

"There he is, looking handsome as ever for the first day at a new school. Aren't you going to be late if you don't hurry up?"

Peter walked to the counter, grabbing the last piece of toast off of the plate beside the toaster.

"Oh, uh, I was hoping.. maybe.. you could drive me? Please?"

"I can't, the car broke down the other day and I still need to get the parts to fix it, remember?" 

Peter ran to the door, slipping into his red converse and hastily tying the laces. Opening the door and stepping out, he called back behind him.

"Bye, I love you both!"

They replied with "We love you too" but were cut off by the door slamming shut behind him. 

Peter ran down the front steps of his house, dropping his skateboard down and stepping on it, pushing himself forward with his other leg. As he rode down the street towards his new school, he pulled out his headphones, putting them on and listening to some music to help calm the anxiety he was feeling about going to a new school for the first time. Outside of the rest of the freshmen class, there weren't very many people at Stan Lee High that Peter knew. The number of people he knew well enough to actually talk to or hang out with was much, much lower. More like zero really. 

As he turned the corner the school came into sight. It was very large, and very intimidating for anyone who was not used to going to such a large school. The one Peter went to prior was much, much smaller. (Closer to about a quarter of the size). He crossed at the crosswalk and picked up his board, carrying it with him as he walked up the large front steps. Advertisements for the school's sports team, 'The Patriots' were everywhere. Posters asking or donations, or about how school wear like sweaters are available for purchase. Peter would most likely buy one if he had the money, he was very fond of sweaters. They're comfortable and make passing easier. As he reached the top of the steps he approached the front door, and he could tell some eyes were being drawn to him. As he reached out to open the front door, it swung open and a tall, muscular man rushed out, knocking him back onto his butt. His skateboard was knocked from his hand and rolled backwards, down the steps. 

"Watch where you're going you little twerp" Was all that he said as he rushed past, giving Peter a suspicious looking side eye. Peter grabbed at the few papers and pencils that fell out of his backpack, stuffing them back into it quickly, trying to get inside and out of eyesight of all the people that just witnessed him fall. As he turned to get up he noticed a hand reaching out to him, silently offering him help. Graciously, he accepted, reaching up and climbing to his feet. The man that helped him up looked several years older than him, most likely a senior. He stood at what Peter assumed was 5'9, a good 5 inches taller than Peter himself. His brown hair hung down to his jawline, messy and windswept, although it wasn't windy out that morning, so it was clear, to Peter at least, that some effort had gone into his appearance. He had a very light stubble going on, Peter also assumed that was intentionally pat of his 'no effort' look. He wore all black from head to toe, and in his other hand was Peter's skateboard. There was a few seconds of silence before the strange, and in Peter's opinion, honestly very attractive man spoke.

"Don't mind Brock Rumlow, he's just an asshole that doesn't care about anyone unless they're doing some sort of sexual act for him, and even then probably not. You alright?" Peter tried, and failed to clear his throat before speaking.

"Y- yeah. I'm alright. Thanks for grabbing my skateboard for me." The older student passed Peter his skateboard back.

"I'm guessing you're a freshman here, not a great first experience. My name's Bucky."

"Peter. I'm uh, my name's Peter." As the first bell rang, Bucky opened the door, gesturing for Peter to go in. "Don't want to be late to your first class."

Peter thanked Bucky and entered the door, pulling out a folded up map of the school and trying to push his way through the crowd of students in the hallway. At least now he had someone that he could maybe talk to, and Bucky seemed cool enough. He finally found his way into his first class, which was English, and slumped down at his desk as the teacher, Mr. Kirby was calling attendance. As attendance was being called, he thought of his morning so far, and meeting Bucky. Everything else around him seemed to fade away until he heard that name. The name that split through him like a sword. "Paula Parker? Is there a Paula Parker here?"

Peter slowly raised his hand and very quietly said "Uhm, actually it's Peter."

There were snickers and whispers from the other students as Mr. Kirby looked down at the attendance sheet and then back up at Peter. "Well it says Paula here... I'll uh, I'll make a note to have that changed on my sheet."

The class then did introductions and went on with their lesson on grammar, which was excruciatingly boring. Around the end of class Peter repeatedly looked up at the clock, counting down the moments before this torture would be over. The rest of the day followed this pattern of being deadnamed by each teacher, and then he'd correct them, and the class would go on. It gave Peter hope that maybe this school wouldn't be so bad if everyone was as accepting as the teachers had been so far. At lunch most students either seemed to sit in the cafeteria, or outside in the yard in the middle of the school, either at the tables or on the ground. Peter waited in line, and got the food that was being served today, spaghetti, with a small salad on the side. He wasn't sure if it would be like this everyday, or if they were just serving a really good meal for the first day.

Looking around, everyone seemed to have a friend or group of friends to talk to, but Peter couldn't seem to find anyone he would be able to sit with. "Even if I could find Bucky, I'm sure a cool senior like that wouldn't want to sit with some dorky freshman like me." He thought to himself as he walked outside and sat against a tree. "It's a nice day, I might as well eat outside." 

As he sat against the tree, about to eat the surprisingly decent meal he got from the cafeteria, he noticed a small spider hanging down from the tree, slowly lowering itself more and more. He watched it, everything else seemingly fading away as the spider slowly dropped down, landing on his hand. It moved with such grace it was hard not to watch. Off in the distance he could hear some kind of argument going on between two, or maybe three people, but he didn't care. At least, not until a set of feet walked up in his field of vision, kicking his lunch tray aside. His head snapped up and his gaze met that of Brock Rumlow, the asshole that knocked him down earlier on in the day. 

"Hey, you're that bitch that walked into me earlier! I nearly slipped on your fucking skateboard, broke my ankle. Then what? I'd be out for football season, you're fucking lucky I didn't slip" He was visibly angry at Peter, and didn't seem like he was going to be calming down anytime soon. Peter tried to respond but he couldn't, he wished he could just hide, but obviously he couldn't hide. A loud voice echoed out from behind Brock, this one sounding much softer and reassuring. 

"Come on Brock, don't be a dick. Leave her alone." Her. He knew they didn't intend to hurt him, but the pronoun cut through him like a knife. Brock spun around, trying to make himself look more menacing than before, and as he turned Peter could see who it was that was standing up for him. He was tall. Very tall, well over six feet, and with muscles like stone. Whoever this man was, he seemed to be chiseled from marble like a statue of a Greek god. 

"Wow look at that, Steve Rogers, Captain America, standing up for the little guy. What a surprise. How about you piss off, this isn't any of your business." Steve walked up to Brock, standing a few inches taller than the bully. 

"Brock. I'm not going to ask again. Leave her alone, before I make sure you won't be able to walk come football season." Steve flexed, and somehow appeared to get even more muscular. 

"Ugh... fuck you Rogers." Brock muttered as he walked away in the direction he came from. Steve squatted down to eye level with Peter. 

"Sorry about Brock, he can be a total ass sometimes."

Peter chuckled lightly, despite the fact he was terrified. "Had the pleasure of meeting him earlier. Seems like an upstanding citizen." This drew a laugh from Steve.

"Please, let me buy you another lunch, or at least give you some of mine, sorry. I didn't seem to catch your name."

"Oh, uh, Peter. My name's Peter Parker." 

Steve seemed somewhat taken aback, but adjusted quickly, seeming not to care about Peter's gender being different from what he initially thought. "Oh, so you're-"

"Trans, yeah. I'm a boy."

And that was the last the two spoke of Peter's gender. Steve was really accepting of Peter, and an all around great guy. Definitely a role model, in Peter's eyes at least. Steve walked Peter back to the cafeteria, where he bought him a new lunch. The two of them sat together at a small table near the corner of the room.

"So uh, Captain America huh?"

Steve looked up from his food at Peter. "Yeah, I've been captain of our football team, The Patriots, for the last few years. Just a nickname I got."

The two of them finished their food, and when the bell went, Steve escorted Peter to his next class. 

"Maybe this school year won't be all that bad." Peter thought to himself as he sat down at his desk, ready to take on the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a much shorter chapter, as I am quite busy but I did not want to put large amounts of time inbetween the publication date of chapters. I hope this is enough to tide you over until the next chapter, which will be longer I swear. 
> 
> This chapter also follows the perspective of Peter Parker.

The bell for the period rang and for the first time that day, Peter was not coming into class late, he was on time, even if it was purely because of Steve Rogers escorting him there. The other kids in the classroom had looked at him with awe, which was probably due to the fact that he walked in with Steve Rogers, captain of the football team, and arguably the most attractive guy in the school. (The muscles certainly didn't hurt.) The teacher walked into the room, picking up the attendance sheet and looking around the room, scanning to see how many of the desks were empty. 

"Good afternoon, I hope the morning has treated you well. My name is Erik Selvig, you shall call me Mr. Selvig, Mr. S, whichever strikes your fancy. As it is the first day, it is understandable if a few students arrive late, however we shall not wait forever. I'd like to formally introduce you to a new class the school is offering: Introduction to Ancient Mythology. Our first unit will be Norse Mythology."

Mr. Selvig continued to talk about Norse Mythology, going off on a tangent about the various gods and goddesses it contained. As the time flew by, eventually the bell rang, interrupting him mid-sentence. "Right, uhm, I will see you all tomorrow, where I will hopefully remember to take attendance." A few of the students chuckled at that as Peter closed his binder, pushing it into his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. 

"God am I glad he forgot to take attendance, maybe I can talk to him about my name now so that I don't get deadnamed tomorrow." Peter thought to himself as he walked in the opposite direction of all the other students. Mr. Selvig was sitting at his desk, flipping through an old, musty looking book, which appeared to be about Norse Mythology. Sitting at the edge of his desk was an old, chipped hammer. "That seems out of place." Peter thought to himself, just before Mr. Selvig looked up.

"Ah, I see you've taken an interest in that hammer huh? It's name is Mjolnir, it belonged to Thor, the Norse god of thunder. Legend states only those who are worthy shall lift it, and those that do shall be imbued with the power of Thor. How about you give it a try?" Peter looked at Mr. Selvig, giving him a questioning, raised eyebrow before he shrugged it off, wrapping his right hand around the grip on the handle. In one motion he attempted to raise the hammer, but it didn't budge at all. 

"In all actuality though, this is just a replica. A very, very heavy replica. Even I can hardly lift it, although I suppose I'm not all that strong. Oh, uhm, is there something you wanted to talk to me about, or were you just enamoured by this mythical hammer of the gods?"

Peter strained to clear his throat, he could feel his palms sweating lightly, his stomach feeling somewhat upset. This happened every time he came out to someone. "Y-yes actually, uhm, on that attendance sheet my name is, uhm, Paula Parker, but I go by Peter Parker now, and I was hoping you could call me by that name. Please."

Mr. Selvig placed a bookmark on the page he was currently on, and then closed the book. It slammed shut as dust exploded out of it. "I can definitely try, I cannot make any promises that I'll get it right all the time though. There will be slip ups."

A wave of relief washed over Peter, not only because Mr. Selvig would call him Peter, but also from the honesty of admitting he would make mistakes. That's something that not very many people do, and it was definitely somewhat reassuring. "Thank you so much Mr. Selvig, this honestly means so, so much to me. I'm afraid I can't stay, this period is my only blank period and I have a lot of homework from my math class this morning."

Mr. Selvig wished Peter a farewell, making sure to include the name 'Peter' in the farewell, and Peter left the classroom with a feeling of warmth. He spent the next period completing the math homework that was given to him while sitting in the library on one of the couches in the corner of the room. "Seems kind of unfare to give out this much homework on the first day." He muttered to himself as he closed to textbook and tucked it away into his backpack. Once again he slid his backpack over one shoulder and walked through the halls to the class he was dreading most. Gym. He changed in the washroom before the bell rang and was sitting in the gymnasium as the bell rang. Moments later the rest of the students entered, most of them sitting with a friend or two, as Peter sat there alone. The teacher came out from the office in the side of the gym to start the class up.

"Good afternoon class, I'm Ms. Marvel, and you may be glad it's the end of the day, but that doesn't mean you get to slack off. We're going to start off with some running, and once none of you can run anymore, we'll end the class with a fun game of dodge-ball to make up for it. As for attendance, I'll leave the sheet out, you can come check yourselves off. If you forget, you'll be marked absent, that's your fault. Alright, let's get this class started!" She clapped her hands as she finished her sentence, the class lining up to check themselves off, before started to run laps around the gym. Peter was one of the first few kids to stop running, he sat, or rather, slumped down onto the bench, exhausted and gasping for breath. The two sports bras he wore dug into his chest, restricting it and making it difficult for him to breathe. 

"Fuck, shoulda taken one off." He muttered to himself, still trying to catch his breath. The class concluded with dodge-ball, in which Peter was one of the first few students to get hit with the ball, it knocking his glasses aside and to the floor. He swiftly picked them up and went over to the bench, embarrassed. After class ended he managed to sneak away to the washroom without anyone noticing. He then retrieved his skateboard from his locker and walked towards the front door, ready to leave. On his way out he noticed Steve and Bucky leaning up against the wall, facing each other. They were standing very close together. As Peter walked by, Bucky nodded and he nodded back. Steve turned his head to see who it was Bucky was addressing, and then gave a slight wave when he saw it was Peter. Peter waved back quickly. 

He skateboarded home, had dinner with Uncle Ben and Aunt May (it was meatloaf), and then went up to his room, where he browsed through tumblr while listening to music before falling asleep with his headphones in. 

His first day had some bad moments, but overall, he thought it went pretty well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows the perspective of Bucky Barnes.
> 
> There is reference to a character's self harm in the past: a description of scarring on the arms. It isn't too graphic.  
> Please be safe while reading.  
> There is also a somewhat graphic description of violence.

Bucky was leaning against the wall, talking to his boyfriend, Captain America himself, Steve Rogers. The bell had just rung and school was over for the day. While listening to Steve talking about his day he noticed the kid he helped at the start of the day and gave them a slight nod. They nodded back. Steve stopped talking and turned his head, and then he waved at the kid, as if he knew who they were, before turning back to Bucky and continuing his story. 

"You know that kid?' Bucky asked, adjusting his weight from one part of his shoulder to the other. 

"Yeah, his name's Peter. Rumlow was picking on him earlier and I intervened, bought him a new lunch, and walked him to class."

"Fuck, really? This morning before first bell Rumlow knocked him over, I grabbed his skateboard for him and held the door, we talked very briefly." Each time a person walked by Bucky seemed to tense up ever so slightly. Were you not looking for it, you wouldn't notice it, but Steve definitely did. He inched closer to Bucky, his presence working to sort of reassure him. This seemed to calm Bucky down slightly.

"Buck, are we still on for tonight?"

"Yeah, I've got some chores to do first though. I would just avoid them but getting yelled at really doesn't sound like any fun." Steve smirked ever so slightly.

"You should go get started on those, Buck." Steve quickly looked around to see if there were any school staff in the hallway, and the proceeded to kiss Bucky gently on the lips. They were warm, and tasted minty, no doubt from the gum he had chewed last period. He was always chewing gum, it made it easier to quit smoking. (Something Steve insisted upon.) Bucky reluctantly said goodbye to Steve, and left the school to walk home. His family wasn't rich, or even middle class for that matter. Money was always short, they never got any fancy meals or brand new pieces of technology. Bucky could barely afford his phone, which was already about four years old, nothing fancy. It flipped open, it called, and it texted. All he really needed out of a phone. He pulled out his earbuds, connected them to his mp3 player, and then put them in, turning the music on. My Chemical Romance blasted in at full volume, which admittedly was damaging his hearing, not that he cared though. The louder the better, easier to make the rest of the world fade away. He slid his hands into the front pockets of his jacket and closed his eyes, focusing on the music as he walked. 

It was about a ten minute walk to his house from the school, it wasn't exactly the nicest neighborhood either. His house was old, and rundown. The front steps were made of old, half rotten wood, and the ceiling leaked in several places. They didn't have enough money to fix any of that, Bucky knew they probably never would. He walked up the front steps, the wood creaking with each step. The screen door pulled open, letting out a screech as he stepped in. The furniture was old, older than Bucky, so was the carpet. Plates piled high in the kitchen sink, the grass in the backyard stood tall and thick. Bucky walked to his room, dropping his backpack on the way in and collapsing down onto his bed. "Fuck, and this was only the first day." He muttered to himself. After a few minutes of lying there, he pushed himself up and went to do his chores.

It took him an hour or so to complete all of the chores that he had to do, although he could have completed them in a shorter amount of time were more effort put into doing so. His dad was out working late so it was up to him to look after himself, which was honestly what it was like most of the time when it came to his family, everyone looking out for themselves and nobody else. Once he was done with all his chores he went back to his room, sprawling out on his bed and listening to music, waiting for Steve to message him. Steve was single-handedly the best part of his life, he made him a better person. Bucky quitting smoking? Because of Steve. Bucky genuinely smiling every once in a while? Because of Steve. Bucky trying to be a better person and stand up for other people instead of retreating into himself? That was all Steve. As he lay there, music blasting in his headphones, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Reaching in, he pulled it out excitedly, ready to see what Steve sent him. It was weird, when he read Steve's texts in his head, it was Steve's voice that he heard them in.

Steve: Hey Buck, still want to have dinner with me?

Bucky: Yeah, absolutely? <3

Steve: That 50's themed diner? It's just a short walk from your home, I can meet you there.

Bucky: That sounds great, but I don't have money and you always pay for me, it isn't fair.

Steve: Alright, I'll just order food for myself and you can mooch off of my plate.

Bucky: Ugh, you manage to find a loophole and be absolutely adorable while doing so.

Steve: Haha, so I'll meet you there in ten minutes or so?

Bucky: Until then. <3

Steve: <3

Bucky rolled out of bed, peeling off his leather jacket and swapping out his Pink Floyd shirt for a Panic! At The Disco shirt. Bucky looked up and down, checking to see if he looked good enough in the mirror. "Yeah, there we go. Much classier." He said sarcastically, pulling his leather jacket back on. Most people thought he wore the jacket to be cool, and yeah, that was definitely a part of it, but it was more of a comforting thing than anything else. Without it on, he felt weak. Vulnerable. Like prey for some wild animal to come and sink it's teeth into. He walked to the front door, pulling on his black combat boots, which were starting to fall apart, and he made his way out of the house and to the retro diner that him and Steve loved. It was just something about the fifties that made them feel at home. 

He pulled open the front door to the diner, scanning the restaurant in an attempt to find Steve. When he wasn't able to spot his boyfriend, he sat down in their usual booth and pulled out his phone.

Bucky: Hey punk, where are you?

There was no response, which was odd as Steve always seemed to answer immediately. Bucky gave it another minute or two, and then sent another message.

Bucky: Seriously, I'm starting to worry. Where are you?

Still no response.

Bucky: Babe?

He held his phone against his forehead and closed his eyes, attempting to calm himself down and keep himself from having a breakdown. His phone went off and a sigh of relief washed over him. Until he actually read the message.

Tony: Hey, I don't know what happened but your boyfriend is over at my party right now, and seems to be having a VERY heated argument with the resident asshole himself, Brock Rumlow.

Bucky: Oh my god, are they fighting? Is anyone hurt? I'll be right there.

Tony: You showing up might not be the best idea, I think Brock said something about you, or something like that. That's why they're fighting. Idk, I'm unsure of the details currently. 

Bucky threw his phone into his pocket and burst out of the diner and down the street, normally it would take ten or fifteen minutes to get to the palace of a home that Tony Stark lived in, but this wasn't normally. Bucky's veins were flowing with adrenaline, he was running faster than ever before. He wasn't sure how long it took him to get to the house, but it definitely wasn't ten minutes. He ran up, basically kicking the side door open, as it was the one he was closest to, and ran into the house to find Steve being thrown down onto a table by Rumlow. Instincts kicking in, Bucky ran in, throwing a punch with all of his power behind it, sending Rumlow backwards into the pool table and over the other side. Bucky could just about hear the bones in his hand break, or fracture, or whatever, he wasn't sure what happened, all he knew was that he fucked his hand up. Rumlow got up from that punch, seemingly unharmed despite the fact he just somersaulted over a pool table. He walked around it, fists clenched at his sides, and he threw a punch at Bucky. Bucky raised an arm in an effort to block it but it was like trying to stop a bullet with a piece of paper, and he was sent spiraling to the ground. Rumlow grabbed Bucky by the collars of his coat and lifted him back up to his feet, slamming him against the wall. "This jacket is kinda nice, a little too big on you though. I think it'd suit me just nicely."

As Rumlow started to pull the jacket off of him, Bucky began struggling violently, desperately, just trying to get away from his grasp. Rumlow headbutted him, making everything go all hazy, and then he pulled the jacket off, letting Bucky crumple down to the floor in a heap, tears starting to well in his eyes. He looked up desperately at Rumlow, who seemed to have frozen. Rumlow's eyes were fixated on the markings that coated Bucky's forearms, the lines of semi-healed red, the bruises, and suddenly Rumlow stopped. He looked down at the jacket, and then at the tears that had started to stream down Bucky's cheeks. He tossed the jacket down onto Bucky and turned to leave, the last words he muttered were mostly incomprehensible, but all Bucky managed to catch was "Freak." Bucky wiped the tears away with the backs of his hands, and climbed up to his feet, putting his jacket back on and staggering over to Steve, smacking him awake and helping him up to his feet.

"Buck.. what're you doing here? I didn't need your help." 

Bucky gave Steve an empathetic smile. "Yeah, I know. You haven't needed my help since we were kids. Looked like you had him on the ropes."

Steve attempted to feign a smile. "I could have done that all day."

The two of them staggered back to Steve's car, where Bucky lowered Steve into the passenger seat, and then took helm at the wheel. Bucky slowly backed out of the driveway, and traveled along the road towards the nearest hospital, as Steve quite clearly needed some medical attention. Bucky was no doctor, but even he could tell Steve was in pretty bad shape. As he was driving he got a message on his phone, and pulled it out with his right hand while his left hand was on the steering wheel. 

Tony: Are you two alright? I was avoiding the game room as being between two beefcakes like them isn't exactly my idea of fun, especially when they're throwing punches.

Bucky slowly typed with one hand while keeping an eye on the road.

Bucky: Driving to the hospital now, Steve is in pretty rough shape. I'm alright, just some slight bruising.

Tony: Shit, hopefully he'll be alright, drive safe, okay?

As Bucky was texting his reply, which ironically was "I always am", he didn't notice the light change from yellow to red until he was in the intersection, and didn't really realize it until another vehicle slammed into the front driver side door, and everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the perspective of Peter Parker.
> 
> (Sorry I haven't updated this in FOREVER, lol)

When Peter arrived at school, he couldn't quite put his finger on it but something felt different. The campus grounds felt hushed and hollow. The hallways were noisy like usual, but there was an undertone of hushed and hurried whispering. Peter knew it wasn't about him, but he couldn't help but worry that it was. Classes were mostly uneventful that day. There was a new student in Mr. Selvig's class that missed the first day of school, as he was having issues with customs at the border. An exchange student from Norway named Thor, who stood at roughly 6'5" and weighed what looked like 250 pounds of muscle. Mr. Selvig went off on a tangent about how the new student was named Thor and how they were doing Norse Mythology in class and how nicely that worked out. He even had Thor lift the replica hammer on his desk, which Thor did without breaking a sweat, holding it over his head and posing triumphantly, which caused a rather unenthusiastic applause from the class. Thor sat down at his desk (barely fitting), and then the bell went signalling the period had ended. 

"Alright, good class today everybody, remember to read pages 10-15 for tomorrow, I hope everyone has a good rest of their day." Mr. Selvig said over the cacophony of people funneling out of his classroom. 

Peter went to the student commons to read the pages in his textbook and complete the math homework he had received earlier in the day, but as he was about to begin he couldn't help but overhear a conversation from the table next to him. 

"So Bucky comes in and throws a wild left hook, sending Rumlow ragdolling over!" Said the girl. 

"No way! Bucky? So what, he ended the fight?" The guy sitting there asked.

"No, Rumlow got up instantly and beat the shit out of him, then he left." 

Peter couldn't help but worry. Turning around in his chair, his fear overtook his social anxiety. "Is Bucky alright?"

The two people sitting at the table were Natasha Romanoff: a red haired girl in all black, and Clint Barton: A somewhat muscular blonde guy in a t-shirt with a hearing aid in.

Natasha brushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear. "You haven't heard? They got into a car accident, a pretty bad one, actually. Steve and Bucky are both in the hospital right now."

Tears welled up in Peter's eyes. 

He spent the rest of the day thinking about it. When school was finally let out, he got on his skateboard and rode it to the hospital Clint told him about. Kicking his skateboard up into his hands, he jogged to the front desk. Hospitals always made him feel uncomfortable, and the current situation certainly wasn't helping that. He approached the front desk. "Hi, I'm looking for Steve Rogers' room. I'm a friend." 

Looking up from his papers, the nurse pointed to the left. "Room 106. He's doing alright, all things considered."

Peter walked to the room, everything a hazy blur. He stopped at the door, looking in. Steve was lying in bed. His body wasn't in any casts, which Peter assumed was a good thing, but his faced was bruised and his arms were bandaged up. 

Steve looked up as Peter walked in. "Hey Peter, what're you doing here?"

"I heard about the accident, I was worried. Are you doing alright?"

Steve winced as he sat up a bit. "I'll be fine. Can you see if you can find out about Buck for me? The nurses won't tell me anything." 

"Yeah, sure. I'll be right back." 

Peter put his bag and skateboard down beside Steve's bed and then left into the hallway to find a nurse.

"Excuse me? Excuse me, miss, can you take me to Bucky Barnes' room? I'm a friend of his and I came to visit but I can't seem to find him anywhere."

The nurse looked down at Peter, sadness in her eyes. "I'm sorry, he's in the ICU right now and I'm afraid we can't allow any visitors at the moment."

A cold tear ran down Peter's cheek. "Is he going to be alright? What's wrong with him?"

The nurse shifted her stance nervously. She spoke in a whisper. "I'm not allowed to tell you details about any patients, but it isn't good. His left arm was crushed, it had to be removed. Along with that, he has a couple of broken ribs and other fractures. He'll live though, don't worry."

Peter was now fully crying. "T-thanks for telling me." Peter wiped his face with the sleeves of his sweater and went back to Steve's room. 

"How is Buck doing? Is he okay?" Steve asked worriedly.

Peter told Steve everything the nurse said, and then the two of them sat there crying for a long time. 


End file.
